


Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except Len and Mick)

by nirejseki



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode: s02e16 Doomworld, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, No Actual Dubious Consent, No One Consented to the Paperwork, episode rewrite, silliness, yes another one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: After the Oculus spits Leonard Snart out, he and Mick go home and let the Legends carry forth hunting down the mysterious time-travelling saboteur by themselves. Clearly this is a mistake, because next thing they know, they're waking up in something that people are calling "Doomworld."Well, that just means it's up to Len and Mick to fix it -Except that, too, is a mistake, because now they're somehow ruling the world and, worse, the official owners of one Barry Allen, speedster.





	Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except Len and Mick)

After everything, they go home.

Len's still nauseous from his adventure in the Oculus - not unlike a whirly-gig, he'd explained, just through time - and Mick, well, Mick was pretending he was over the whole Kronos thing a lot more than he really was.

He only has so much room to feel hurt, and the hurt of losing Len had eclipsed it all - right up until the Oculus had spat Len out onto the floor of the Waverider in the middle of one of the worst timestream storms either Rip or Mick had ever seen.

According to Len, the Oculus swallowed him, but didn't think he tasted good. Too much truck with speedsters.

Len's explanations for the Oculus change every time. Nobody ever pointed it out.

It didn't matter, not to Mick. Len is back. He’s back. They’re back together. 

They _go_ back.

Back to Central, Len's beloved city. Back where they belong.

"There's still more to do," Ray said to Mick, right before they'd left for home. "Travel the timeline with us. Help protect it with us."

"We're thieves, not heroes," Mick replied. He hesitated. Ray had been kind, trying to fill the hole Len left behind, backing off when Mick had made it clear he didn't want that hole filled. "But thanks for offering, Haircut."

They spend some time lying low when they get back. Nice, quiet. Looking at blueprints like they're thinking of pulling a job, but not seriously. Fiddling with their guns.

Quiet.

It's two weeks before Len says, "I think I died."

It's another two days before Mick says, "I think I did, too."

Another two hours before Len says, "I remember it."

Two minutes before Mick says, "Me, too."

They look at each other.

"Two hours?" Len offers, getting up to get the hard liquor, the stuff that's been sitting in the corner, waiting for them to get their act together. It's the way they've always done it when fists didn't get them where they needed to go - the drink let them pretend it was the alcohol spilling feelings, not them.

Lets them pretend they got so drunk that they both totally black out the whole experience, too.

"Make it two days," Mick says. They have a _lot_ to talk about.

He goes first. Kronos is - he learned a lot. He did a lot. He _suffered_ a lot. Some of that was Len's fault. Some of it wasn't. 

There were some good parts. Ginny, his AI - he'd liked her.

"Parked her somewhere secret outside Nanda Parbat," Mick says. "But I told her to go to rest in Keystone if I didn't come for her."

"We can go pick her up," Len offers. "Put her in the basement."

Mick's shoulders, which had been tightening up at the thought of more time travel, relax. The basement. Yes. That was good. Their favorite, most legitimate safehouse - more warehouse than anything else, but the cops wouldn't touch it. They kept parts of their stashes there.

It would be a good place to put Ginny and her ship. Give her a place to rest her head not too far from Mick, but not so close he might feel compelled to use her. Not close enough for the nightmares, which have never gone away, to gain in power.

"We should do that," Mick agrees.

Len goes next. He talks about his motivations with the crew, how they changed; he goes back in time, talks about how killing his old man after so many years of terror felt; jumps forward again, talks about 2046, how he'd been afraid of losing Mick; back again, talks about Barry, the superhero, about how being a supervillain filled some part of his soul...

He talks about Kronos. How he'd felt, waking up tied on that ship. About Mick's threats.

About smashing his hand.

"I'm sorry," Mick says. They don't do that, don't say that, but this one was a whopper of a fuck-up. He can always blame the drink, all three of them he's had. Nowhere near his tolerance.

"I shouldn't have left you," Len whispers, and Mick understands that he blames himself.

Talking _that_ out takes the rest of the evening.

They're sick the next day - even drinking slow, that's a lot of liquor - but they keep going. Scab after scab, wound after wound, until they've lanced every boil, till they're back to equilibrium.

Hot and cold, fire and ice. Balanced.

"So," Mick says, as they put back the bottles. "Sara, huh? Thinking about her as a third?"

They've been looking for a while. They've always worked better with a third, someone to keep company with when Mick burns too hot or Len goes too cold, someone to remind them they don't want to split apart, but they've never found someone worth keeping. Mick's content to let Len do the footwork; he's far more charming.

"I was," Len admits. "But she's pretty tied up with her new gig with the timeline, and I think we've both had enough of that."

Mick nods, not disagreeing.

The next day, Len gets to planning their next job. Seriously, this time. "Need to get our grove back before we go up against the Flash again," he says, grinning.

The first heist - Coast City - goes well enough. Not great - even Mick has to admit it's a little boring without having to account for the Flash - but well enough.

The next one - in Bludhaven - goes great. Mick rediscovers the joy in getting one over the cops, Len gets to indulge his taste for violence

(The Oculus didn't let you move, Len explained; not frozen but limp, forever and always. Some days he wakes up certain that he’s still there, for all that Mick shoves books about sleep paralysis at him.)

Mick's dragging his feet about going to pick up Ginny, afraid of nightmares, so one day Len sets up a nice burn for him - picnic blanket, giant bonfire tended to by other people, singing and dancing, some holiday of Len's that Mick loves - and does it himself, which means Mick comes home to their warehouse and Len tells him she's in the basement.

"How did you find her?" Mick asks, amazed. Ginny, like all time ships, is designed for camouflage. 

Len shrugs, a little abashedly. "Ever since the Oculus spun me through its core like a ball inside a washing machine, I have a good sense for things that go through the timeline. Like a weathervane. Or a compass." 

Mick nods, doesn't comment, and goes to talk to Ginny.

That night, Len's the one with nightmares.

They don't talk about it again. It's not their way to, not without the drink and the excuse - not without an emergency.

An emergency is what happens a few months later, in April.

They're having a quiet day - Mick working on souping up their cycles, Len reading a fiction book for once - and then suddenly Len's head jerks up like he's heard an explosion.

"What's up?" Mick asks, reaching for the gun sitting within reach - always within reach.

He's expecting many things - anything from the Flash to time pirates and back - but Len shakes his head and jumps to his feet, eyes wide with panic.

"The timeline," he says. "We need - guns, and to the basement. Now!"

They go.

At Mick's instruction, Ginny puts up her strongest shields, the ones that have never even been tested, designed to hold off an Oculus blast if need be. (Mick had designed them in his head in those long, painful months without Len, installing them only recently.)

Just as Ginny confirms that they are in place, the timestream surrounds them.

"Did we take off?" Mick asks, staring at the green swirls out of the window, which had previously shown nothing but dirty concrete walls.

"No," Len says grimly. "The timestream came to us."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. Someone is shaking the foundations of the world and re-writing them."

"An aberration?"

"No, worse. They're actually changing the entire course of the timestream. Reality itself."

"Will we be affected?"

Len puts his hand against the window pane. A curl of blue light within the green reaches back, brushing the pane from the outside almost lovingly, a caress from a dear friend. 

"No," he says, and his eyes are strange and not the color they were a moment ago. "Our shields will hold, I think. But the world..."

"Shit," Mick says feelingly. He rather liked the world.

He hoped what they found when they went out wouldn't be too bad.

The time storm lasts the whole night - they curl together in Kronos' bed; Mick rewriting his terrible history in the eerie blue glow of Len's eyes - and in the morning they come out to find...

"An evil dictatorship," Len says flatly. 

"Should've guessed, really," Mick agrees.

"They call their centralized organization that runs the world _Doomworld_. They're not even _trying_ to be subtle!"

Mick picks up a newspaper while Len's ranting. He hums. "Looks like some guy calling himself Lord Eobard Thawne solved global warming, though."

"Well, yeah; what's the point of making your own universe if it sinks in a few years, I guess. Wait, _Lord_? How goddamn pretentious. What do we know about him?"

Mick grins. "You're going to like this," he says.

Len arches an eyebrow. "Changed universe," he reminds Mick. "I don't think I'm going to like any of it."

"This you will."

"Fine; I'll bite. What is it?"

Mick hands him the newspaper. "Eobard Thawne is a speedster."

Len pauses even as he takes the newspaper and spreads it before him.

"You're right," he murmurs, looking at the full-page spread showing Thawne running in a streak of red light. "I do like this."

\-------------------------------------------------------

The world, they find, hasn't changed all that much.

Really. 

The Particle Accelerator still happened, for one thing; the Flash's exploits, for another. Star City is still - well, a raging dumpster fire, but that's normal for Star City.

Honestly, the only thing that's changed is the almost phlegmatic way everybody accepts Doomworld and what Len has taken to snidely calling the Terrible Trio – Eobard Thawne, Damien Darkh, and Malcolm Merlyn – as their evil overlords.

Oh, there's a resistance, of course - what evil overlord dreamland doesn't have a nice little resistance to hunt down and destroy at their leisure? - but it's not much to look at.

"They don't even appreciate a challenge," Len grumbles.

"Pathetic," Mick agrees.

They can't find the Flash anywhere, and it seems like Sara is now a brainwashed death-squad member. They haven't see any of the other Legends, but guesses weren't good.

"Haircut might be able to make something to fix the brainwashing," Mick suggests. "If we can find him."

"Maybe," Len says, watching Sara and a black girl he doesn't recognize prance around in black leather and lethal smiles. "But if these assholes will dress them up like fetish models, I don't know if we can afford to wait for him to build something."

Mick nods grimly. That hadn't occurred to him, but it should have.

He doesn’t like the blank way Felicity Smoak smiles from her position standing behind Malcolm Merlyn in the newspaper photos much, either. She’d been nice. She deserved better than being a supervillain evil overlord's secretary.

"So," Mick says. It's a question.

"Yes," Len says. It's an answer.

That's all they need to say to each other, after all these years. They might be villains, sure, but they didn't work with the Families and they didn't truck with people who exploited power to cause others pain.

And they certainly didn't permit it in their city now that they were supervillains.

"He'd better not have killed the Flash," Len mutters darkly. "I _liked_ him."

"There's got to be a way to fix this," Mick says. It's more hope than anything else - that timestream flood had been something new. Different. Scary.

Even Kronos had never heard anything like it.

But it makes Len nod, more determined than ever.

In the end, it takes them ten days, most of which was spent planning for contingencies.

They go to Star City, where Damian Darkh makes his home. The main hub of Doomworld is where the old STAR Labs used to be in Central, of course, but Darkh clearly had a grudge against the Star City vigilantes, or he wouldn't have made himself the mayor of a fairly insignificant city or sent his death squads against them - luckily, those he already captured were sentenced to public executions which had yet to take place.

Darkh is expecting heroes to attack, that much is clear with the obvious guards and shields. But he hasn't discounted the threat potentially posed by his fellow Doomworld leaders - he also has defenses against sneak attacks (Merlyn) or speedsters (Eobard).

He doesn't have any proper defenses against a clever thief who's happy to distract him with a smile and a story while his partner ices him in the back.

(Mick's few extra months of being a Legend were very useful - Darkh is so eager to use him against the others, he forgets about Mick's poor, dead partner.)

Once Darkh is dead, it's easy enough to call in Merlyn, nominally for a meeting, only for Mick to light the whole waiting room he's in on fire.

Merlyn really shouldn't have spent all that time on defenses to magical and sword attacks. Acknowledging diversity can change your life - or save it, in this case. Even if it is only diversity in styles of killing people.

"Two down," Mick says.

"One to go."

They return to Central even as word spreads of the two deaths in Star City.

Thawne is expecting them - generally, anyway. He's a little surprised to find them already waiting in his throne room.

"Captain Cold and Heatwave," he says ingratiatingly, clearly willing to play the cards he has with a slick snake-oil salesman's smile. "Welcome. It appears you've done me a favor. What reward -"

"This city is ours," Len says, and fires.

Thawne dodges. 

"You don't want power?" he asks. "You could take Merlyn and Darkh's places -"

"I don't want to rule the world," Len says, firing again. Thawne dodges like it's nothing and the shot goes wide of the mark.

"Pity you won't listen to reason," Thawne says with a smirk, and charges straight at Len, hands buzzing like chainsaws.

The sound he makes when he's yoinked into Scudder's mirror-world is honest-to-god hilarious.

"Payment time," Scudder says, appearing on the outside of the mirror. 

"Not yet," Len says, stepping out from the side of the room where he'd been play-acting for Scudder's mirrors. He aims his gun and freezes the mirror. If Scudder's right, and Len does trust him to know his own powers, then in just a moment -

The mirror shatters and Thawne staggers out, totally disoriented. That disorientation means he doesn't dodge or run, leaving him open to be hit dead on by the blast of Lisa's spare gold gun.

Mick's idea, since Lisa's off in the Caribbean, relaxing. No one ever expects Mick to use anything but fire, especially not now.

Speedsters can shake off a lot. Gold plating? A little trickier. Thawne will have to figure out the vibrating frequency of gold before he can escape that.

Len doesn't give him a chance to do that. He ices the gold statute and shatters it into a hundred pieces.

"Payment," Scudder insists.

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you," Len recites through gritted teeth. A deal's a deal, no matter how dumb. "And the rest of the stash that I owe you is in the place on Willow Street."

Scudder studies him suspiciously. "And you won't try to kill me or Rosa again?"

"Don't date and then cheat on my sister again," Len shoots back. “ _Either_ of you.”

"...right," Scudder says, wincing in acknowledgment. "Me and Rosa are moving to Star City. No hard feelings?"

"Good luck with Star City," Mick says, swapping out the gold gun for his own heat gun to start melting the remaining gold pieces. His tone is final. Scudder makes like a tree and leaves. 

Len hopes he also makes like a mirror and reflects, but he doubts it.

"So, that's that," Mick says.

"Good riddance," Len agrees. "Now the world can go back to normal." 

Now that the threat is gone, they can restore the Legends and get them to fix the time stream.

No problem.

"Sir," someone says from the door. There's a small crowd of people in business suits.

"What?" Len asks.

"I suppose the first order of business is, how would you like to be addressed?" one of them asks.

"Addressed?"

"As the new leaders of Doomworld," the person clarifies.

Len and Mick exchange horrified looks.

Maybe not 'no problem'.

It turns out the entire system of Doomworld relies on there being an evil overlord, a role that can be obtained by murdering any of the three existing leaders. Since Len and Mick did the murdering, the role falls to them.

"That's a terrible system of inheritance!" Len exclaims. "Is everyone going to be gunning for us, now?"

"No, no," the chief bureaucrat says soothingly. "It only applied to the original three – Lord Thawne, Master Darkh, and Ra’s al Ghul, also called Lord Merlyn."

"Wait. Only them? But why?!"

"They were all planning on getting each other," Mick says. 

"Of all the stupid..."

"What's the consequences if we _don't_ do it?" Mick asks the guy.

The list is - very, very long.

The Terrible Trio had been very thorough. They ruled the whole world, not just parts of North America - the world was now under a unified world government, all of which referred to and was subject to the great big administrative body which was Doomworld. Doomworld was designed to fall apart without an overlord. If Doomworld fell apart -

World war.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mick says flatly.

"Afraid not," Len drawls. He's regained his cool. "Don't worry, Mick; it's just until the Legends fix it, right?"

"...right."

"Oh, and there's the matter of the personal inheritance," the bureaucrat says.

"Personal?"

"Yes, of course. Lord Thawne's pet."

"A speedster with a pet," Len says, looking amused. "What is it? A cheetah? Peregrine falcon?"

The bureaucrat nods at the doorway, where Barry Allen is being lead in by a leash attached to some sort of high-tech looking collar. "Another speedster," the bureaucrat says.

Len gapes.

Mick gapes.

Barry rubs behind his head. "Uh," he says. "Hi, guys?"

This is a _serious_ problem.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

"So let me get this straight," Len says. His voice is cool, but Barry can tell he's incredibly pissed off. "You have to obey the leaders of Doomworld - currently us."

"Yep," Barry confirms.

"And you need to be in physical contact of some sort with us for at least an hour a day or else you're in agony from the collar that none of us can remove, not even with our guns." Len sounds positively murderous.

"Eobard didn't get to do anything," Barry assures him. "He was too bust plotting against Merlyn and Darkh - he thought they were going to team up against him - so he just liked making me beg for him to touch me and then, uh, petting my head."

"Creep," Mick grumbles.

"I don't disagree," Barry says rather fervently.

"So how much do you remember of the timeline?" Len asks.

"Enough to know it changed," Barry says. "The speed force protected me from losing my memories."

"Right," Mick says. "Ramon ought to have the same, right?"

Barry makes a face. "They made him a millionaire," he says ruefully. "It might take a while before he remembers everything."

"We'll call him and get him to remove the collar," Len says firmly. "You can't possibly stay like this."

"Of course not," Barry agreed. 

Unfortunately, Cisco refused to be found. His secretary apologized, then announced he was busy, then admits he's on a trip - not due back for a few more days. No way for him to return early, sorry.

"This is ridiculous," Len says.

Barry agrees, trying to hide his restless fidgeting. He was going to need that physical contact soon, but he didn't want to pressure the two supervillains who were currently in the middle of saving the world.

Mick's hand falls on Barry's shoulder.

All of Barry's muscles go slack with beautiful, wonderful release. He sighs happily. 

"Appreciate it if you mention it next time," Mick says. "Don't want you to suffer."

"You try to light me on _fire_ on a regular basis," Barry reminds him.

Mick shrugs. "That's for fun. This is just creepy."

Barry has to agree. Obeying Eobard Thawne - who took great pleasure in bringing up Flashpoint and force-feeding Barry Big Belly Burger for days on end - was not his idea of fun. Fighting Len and Mick was - closer. 

Especially since Barry and Len made their deal, and then they went on the trip with the Legends. Mick had been really helpful for fighting the aliens. 

Mick leaves his hand there as long as possible, but eventually he just yanks Barry onto the couch, squished right between him and Len. It's blissful. Barry could nap. Barry might nap.

"This isn't good," Len says.

Barry cracks an eye open.

Len has been studying paperwork all evening. Barry had assumed it was for a heist.

"What isn't good?"

"All that work for a unified world government," Len says, looking disgruntled, "and no one's worked out a way to feed the parts of the world with famine? We're going to have an uprising calling for our heads - mine and Mick, that is, since they were brainwashed into loving the first trio - if we don't solve this."

"That's bad," Barry acknowledges. If Len and Mick died before they solved his collar problem, his 'ownership' would transfer to...well, Barry doesn't want to find out. Not to mention avoiding war and famine! "How do we fix it?"

"We need to buy time," Len says, reaching up to rub his eyes. "Mick and I, we left the Legends before any of this happened, so we don't know what doohickey the Terrible Trio used to fix the world up."

"You didn't check before killing them?"

"No time with the speedster," Len says. "And Darkh had Sara brainwashed to be obedient - except she was prancing around in skin-tight leather. We didn't want her to suffer."

"Merlyn had some of the Star City squad," Mick puts in. His eyes are still hot with anger. "Felicity."

Barry nods. "So you took them out."

"It seemed wise to prioritize that," Len says. "Now we just need to get the Legends to tell us what they were doing so we can reverse it."

Barry nods again. "Makes sense. Where are they?"

"Sara's in Star City and we've, uh, summoned her. But the others? No clue."

"We haven't really had time to look," Mick grumbles. "Stupid evil overlordship."

"I can go look for them," Barry offers. "I mean, I'm your, uh, pet. I probably have enough authority to get them to come with me. And I'll be much faster."

"What about your physical contact issue?"

"I'll run back and we can do it, then I set out again," Barry says. "I'm fast enough that it won't really lose that much time."

"I'm not sure _we'll_ have time," Len says, shuffling through the papers. His drawl has dropped off almost entirely, which Barry takes to mean that he's really worried. "If we want the machinery of Doomworld to keep working and not dissolve into world war around us, we have to spend a fair bit of time 'receiving' an audience. While sitting on - no. No. They did not name it that."

"What?" Mick asks.

Barry sniggers. He knows what Len found.

"What?" Mick says again, looking between the two of them, Len's exaggerated horror and Barry's shit-eating grin. "What is it? What'd they name it?"

"I think," Barry says with relish, "that he's talking about your Throne of Darkness."

Mick stares for a second and then puts his head in his hands. "I need a drink."

Barry reaches out and presses a hidden button the way Eobard always used to.

A person appears, wearing a Doomworld uniform, looking inquisitive. 

"Bring alcohol," Barry instructs. "Including some of that stuff Eobard was always drinking. Oh, and lots of dinner. Thanks!"

The person nods and retreats as silently as they came.

Barry smiles, pleased.

Len and Mick are both staring at him in disbelief.

"What?" Barry says. "You have to play the role until the Legends fix this, right? Might as well enjoy some of the perks."

Besides, ever since Eobard said he'd changed the fabric of reality to create a type of alcohol that actually worked on speedsters, Barry has been dying to try it.

"Oh, god," Len drawls. "We've shacked up with an optimist."

"We're fucked," Mick agrees.

"You're both _drama queens_ , that's what you are," Barry tells them.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Mick's amazed that the system works as well as it does. Both generally - the administrative body that really runs Doomworld is seriously insane - and interpersonally, with Barry. 

Barry runs out every morning to go search for the Legends, which takes some doing - they don't know what city they're in, or if they're under a different name, and at any rate they don't know how to fix their brainwashing anyway - and comes back around noon for lunch and to spend a few hours sitting at their feet at the Throne of Darkness, which is apparently an entire gigantic hall in which the leaders of Doomworld listen to problems and rule on them like Hollywood's idea of fantasy universe monarchy.

Barry says he's much more okay with the whole thing now that there are pillows. He refuses to take the third throne, saying it's better to be underestimated and also it would keep him from leaning against their legs and getting his hair petted, all the physical contact his collar requires.

Mick suspects he just likes having his hair petted.

This suspicion is borne out by how often Barry just so happens to ‘accidentally’ cuddle himself around Len, who can be counted on to fold like a house of cards at the merest suggestion that Barry could use some more contact, even though he has _clearly_ met his quota for the day.

Len provisionally gives the third throne to Lisa, who point-blank refuses to return from her Caribbean vacation to do _paperwork_. 

Mick is unsurprised. Paperwork sucks, even when he has Barry to help speed-read it and Len to help make decisions. Not that Len can always help - there's so much to do, they've decided to split it.

The relief on the faces of the Doomworld bureaucrats is noticeable. Apparently the Terrible Trio had created the structure to rule the world and then promptly dicked around instead of actually ruling it, with a side order of prompt execution if someone pestered them too long about doing their fucking jobs.

It’s a lot of work, ruling the world.

Mick does get to put in place a few committees to take his rough ideas about the criminal justice and mental health system to flesh out into actual proposals. He’s kind of hoping to see what they come up with before they fix the world and go back to normal.

(Barry is sitting next to Mick and Mick’s got an arm slung over his shoulders, his fingers on the back of Barry’s neck, kneading the tense muscles there a little. Barry sighs with happiness. Mick suspects he’s being used for backrubs.)

Turns out someone ended up making Ray a _janitor_ , of all things. 

He’s still a mechanical genius, though, so he has a couple of ideas that could result in a mental ‘realignment’ for people who have been brainwashed. Unfortunately, like most ideas, it was still in the beta testing stages. 

Mick’s all in favor of getting him to finish that as soon as possible, with the assistance of Felicity and everyone else who had an interest in technology assigned to prioritize that project.

Meeting Sara had just been…creepy. 

She and her partner – Amaya Jiwe – had swanned in and flirted their asses off, but not in the way Sara normally flirted. More like bad Bond girl flirting.

Len dismissed them very quickly.

“I liked her,” Len said plaintively afterwards. “I don’t like this her.”

Barry puts a hand on his knee. “We’ll fix her.” He hesitates. “When you say you _liked_ her…”

“I was considering if she’d like to join me and Mick for an ongoing threesome,” Len clarifies. “It didn’t work out, as it happens.”

Barry’s eyebrows go up.

So does the placement of his hand on Len’s thigh. 

“We’re looking for a permanent third,” Mick says, watching with interest as Barry’s hand creeps up. “Someone who likes us both.”

“Both,” Barry says nodding. “Very important. Actually…”

“Whatever happened to Iris West?” Mick asks. Pointedly.

Barry’s shoulders droop. “Eddie Thawne is alive,” he says. “So that _Eobard_ Thawne can be alive. Iris doesn’t even remember we dated.”

“She’ll remember once we fix the world,” Len says soothingly. He hasn’t noticed the hand, because he’s an oblivious idiot – all physical contact is the same to him: initially terrifying until he’s given himself permission to accept it, at which point he doesn’t really notice nuance. It’s amazing he’s as good at flirting as he is, given that he doesn’t notice when it’s happening to him.

“I don’t want Eddie to die again,” Barry objects. “He was – he _is_ – a really good guy.”

“You thinking of shaking up with both of them?”

“Iris is a one-true-love sort of person,” Barry says with a sigh. “Even if she liked me, she’d liked Eddie first and…well. She got together with me because everyone seemed to expect us to, and she grew to love me more and more along the way, because she’s amazing like that. But if she had a chance with Eddie…well. Iris can be my anchor without being my girlfriend. Or wife.”

“Ouch,” Len says.

“Yeah,” Barry agrees. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“So you’re not a one true love sort of person,” Mick says. Also pointedly.

“No, not really,” Barry says. “I’m pretty open to, uh, new ideas.” He pets Len’s thigh again, looking hopefully at Mick like he’ll come closer.

“Red,” Mick says. “If you want to play ‘the evil overlords take advantage of their spoiled pet’, you could just _ask_.”

Barry blushes tomato-red. “Uh,” he says.

"We'd be into it," Mick adds.

Barry grins crookedly. “Well. I mean. In _that_ case…”

“No one is having sex with anyone until that collar comes off,” Len says.

Barry’s shoulders droop. “Why _not_?” he whines.

Mick agrees. He’s pretty close to whining himself. “Lenny…”

“We don’t know if he’ll feel the same way after it’s off,” Len says, and his voice has a tone of finality. “It could have features we don’t know about.”

“I promise I never even once thought about Eobard that way,” Barry says, looking nauseous. “He was, like, my _mentor_.”

“Ask again after your collar is off and we’ll see.”

Barry pouts. “Fine,” he says, and starts pulling his hand away.

“You can still feel me up,” Len clarifies. “We’re just not doing anything _else_.”

Barry grins.

“So, Len,” Mick drawls. “Barry, huh? You thinking of him as a third?”

“For longer than I’m going to admit,” Len concedes cheerfully.

“Good,” Barry says.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Len is going to murder Cisco Ramon.

Well, he would, if he could goddamn _locate_ the guy. 

Mick has taken to feeding grapes to Barry while they’re on their throne. Barry has taken to lounging in increasingly suggestive positions.

Len is now beset by _two_ people complaining about the lack of “evil villain despoils the intrepid hero” roleplaying going on. 

And it’s not that he’s not interested – he _is_ , far too much; he’s been trying to think of a good way to explain that supervillain vs. superhero fights are actually his terrible method of flirting to Barry for _months_ prior to the trip with the Legends – it’s that he actually does have some morals in there. Somewhere.

He’s currently regretting that, but oh well.

Ray and Felicity can’t help with the collar, though they tried. 

“It follows absolutely zero logic,” Felicity says, frustrated. “It’s like…”

“Someone just thought it up into existence?” Len asks.

“Yes! Exactly!”

Len sighs. 

“We’re working very hard on the memory restoring device, though,” Ray says.

“Right,” Len says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s going to develop a headache, he just knows it. “And how is your vigilante boyfriend doing?”

“Vigilante boyfriend?” Felicity laughs nervously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, _vigilante boyfriend_. Sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“Or a movie,” Ray adds.

“Or a movie _based_ on a comic book!”

“Or an animated television show inspired by a movie which is based on a –”

“I know that Oliver Queen is hiding in the rafters as we speak,” Len interrupts. Yep, headache, right on time. “Also, both of you have your shirts on inside out. I don’t mind if you take off some time to canoodle with the vigilante boyfriend who – let me remind you – I have _pardoned_. Just don’t let it interfere with your work.”

“Don’t worry,” Felicity assures him. “It’s been very inspiring. I mean, moving. Uh. I mean…”

“Just…stop.”

Len goes and has his secretary call Cisco Ramon again.

Still no luck.

_Murder._

Where the hell _is_ this guy?

The sooner he gets Miracle Inventor Man in his grasp, the sooner he can stop ruling the world.

Well, the sooner he can sleep with his husband and their new pet (not the kink he would've expected Barry to have, but he's very pleased regardless) and _then_ stop ruling the world. 

Priorities.

Len hasn’t even had a chance to _steal_ something in ages.

Maybe he should take up the offer from the guy over in Metropolis to let him take over some of the running-the-world business…running a gigantic corporation _has_ to be better experience for running the world than high-end theft, right…?

That’s when Len gets ambushed.

By _heroes_.

“What the fuck even,” Len says flatly, his back against the wall, gun up and out and at ready.

It’s Ramon, of course, and Caitlin Snow (wearing some weird get-up and with white hair) and Kid Flash – what was his name again? – and Iris West and Joe West and Eddie Thawne and some guy who looks like Harrison Wells but god only knows what he goes by or what universe he’s from; Len’s stopped counting. They’re all pointing various types of tech at him, which given Ramon’s capabilities, Len isn’t going to question.

“You need to let Barry go,” Ramon says.

“Are you _kidding me_?” Len exclaims. “I’ve been calling you for three weeks trying to get you to help me _do just that_! Your secretary kept saying you were busy!”

The whole group looks taken aback. 

“I know you’ve been trying to get me to come in,” Ramon says cautiously. “I thought you wanted to take me out.”

“If I wanted to take you out, I’d send the death squad I inherited from Darkh,” Len says. “I want you to come help me fix Barry’s collar.”

“We’re not helping you _fix_ Barry’s collar!” Iris exclaims.

“To get him _out of it_ ,” Len says, aiming for slow and loud and very clear since he’s clearly dealing with idiots. “Thawne put him in it; I want him out. It’s creepy.”

“He sits at your throne –”

“He needs a certain amount of physical contact a day or the collar shocks him, and I need to look evil overlord enough to make this whole system not collapse,” Len says. “It’s mutually beneficial.”

“If you’ve taken advantage –” Joe starts.

“He’s the one who’s flirting, not me,” Len shoots back. 

“He is _not_!”

“Can we just get his collar off?” Len demands. "Then we can defer to his opinions on the subject."

“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” Cisco demands.

Len grinds his teeth. “ _Because_ –” he starts.

He doesn’t get a chance to finish, because there’s a familiar flash of lightning and suddenly Barry is standing there, blinking at all of them.

"Uh, hi, guys," Barry says. "...why are you pointing guns at Snart?"

"He's keeping you as a pet!" Joe exclaims.

Barry blushes.

"Clearly _that_ part isn't the issue," Iris says dryly. 

"...no," Barry squeaks. "But, uh, this collar..."

"I'm on it, man," Cisco says. Then he glances at Len. "Uh. Sorry for missing your calls and assuming you were out to kill me."

Len waves his hand. Bygones, bygones... "Actually, can you also fix the device for the Legends' memories?" he asks. "I want to not rule the world anymore."

"Really?" Iris asks.

"It's mostly paperwork."

"Huh," she says. "I could do a story about that -"

"Iris!" Joe snaps.

"- but will definitely wait to do that until after we finish rescuing Barry," she hastily concludes.

Cisco goes into a huddle with Ray and Felicity.

The other would-be rescuers get served coffee. They seems somewhat bewildered.

After an hour or so of awkwardness, Len decides to recruit them to doing his paperwork.

Mick wanders in a little later, only to stop and stare.

"What?" Len asks.

"The boys told me you'd been ambushed by the resistance and that you'd instead recruited them into doing your paperwork," Mick says, starting to grin. "Hadn't realized they were being serious."

"You seriously need to improve medical care globally," Caitlin says, nose buried in a pile of papers.

"Congrats, you're now in charge of that committee."

"What? No. I'm evil now! My name is Killer Frost!"

"Perfect for an evil overlord's chief henchwoman of medicine," Len replies. "Not seeing the issue."

She opens her mouth.

"Or are you suggesting that a position of great power and influence _isn't_ sufficiently evil?"

"I - guess?" she says. "I feel like there's a flaw in that logic..."

"Nah, not at all," Mick says. "You're overthinking it. Have you testing what goes colder, cold gun or ice powers yet?"

"We should do that," Len says.

"Not in here, please," the long-suffering chamberlain says.

Len is convinced he has the meta ability to appear whenever anyone mentions destruction of property.

What? It’s possible. This _is_ Central City...

\---------------------------------------------------------

With Cisco's help, they get the collar off in three days.

Barry whoops and hugs him. "Thank you! You're a lifesaver, man!"

"The only thing I'm saving you from is your inability to get laid," Cisco replies, rolling his eyes, but he's grinning broadly. "Better yet, I fixed the brainwashing machine."

"Even better," Barry enthuses. "When..?"

"The Legends should be remembering their original timelines as we speak."

"That means Len will be in a great mood," Barry decides.

"TMI," Cisco immediately says. "So much TMI."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Still TMI!"

Barry sticks out his tongue and goes to run down Len and Mick.

Who do _not_ look happy.

"What's the matter?" Barry asks. 

"They don't know how to fix it," Len says. He's glaring.

"We have some ideas..?" the new guy - Nate? - says sheepishly. 

"Do you even know where this so-called Spear of Destiny _is_?" Mick asks, not sounding impressed.

"Uh..."

Mick and Len make identical expressions that signify oncoming headaches and/or homicide.

"But they'll go look for it _right now_ , right?" Barry says hastily. "No need to worry, Len; they'll figure it out. Won't take more than another month or two."

"Right," Sara says, eying the two world leaders-slash-supervillains like one might eye an unexploded bomb. "Sure, we'll get right on it."

"We need to make sure we keep some of the good aspects, after all," Barry says, going to Len and Mick and leading them away from the Legends. The Legends take the hint and scoot away at speed. Barry's sure Len and Mick will be happier to see them once the whole "we're still ruling the world" thing has faded a bit.

Mostly sure. They really hate the paperwork.

(If Barry ushers them out a little faster than he might've otherwise, he is in no way admitting that 'we were considering Sara for a threesome' has anything to do with it.)

"I guess," Mick grumbles. "Global warming."

"World peace," Barry points out.

Len sighs. "Another month or two?"

"I'm sure," Barry lies. "Besides! Good news: the collar is off."

Suddenly, Barry has their full attention.

He's not going to lie, he rather likes it.

"Guess another month or two won't be too bad," Mick rumbles, his voice suddenly lower and a whole lot sexier.

"I think we'll find a way to keep busy," Len purrs in agreement.

Barry gulps.

Oh yeah. _This_ is what he's talking about.

\--------------------------------------------------------

(It takes more than two months.)


End file.
